Mine
by thanks-for-the-breasthat
Summary: Rowan's at a loss when it comes to Aelin's new found Fae form. Smutty one shot. RowanxCelaena/Aelin


**I only just finished HoF last night, and I'm absolutely in love with Rowan! As much as I liked Chaolaena, I'm pretty sure that they're both moving past each other now, and Rowan's . . . well he's kind of sexy as fuck. In addition to that, there's far too little smut in the ToG fandom, so I've decided to help a little with that. It's a little sad that I literally only have motivation to write smut (but also sort of funny) these days, but regardless, here ya go!**

Rowan awoke to the familiar leather and honey scent of Aelin's hair and cracked open his eyes against the bright sunlight streaming in through the window. Aelin's window. The one overlooking the courtyard in her suite. He rubbed a hand through his hair, falling from its tie, rubbing the sore muscles at the back of his neck. Sore from sleeping sitting up on a couch.

He looked down at the weight on his arm and shoulder, Aelin's silvery hair trailing down over his chest. Something embarrassingly soft stirred in him as she nestled into the side of his neck, her forehead warm against his skin. Her breaths washed across his collar bone.

He attempted to move his arm from behind her, but the arm across his chest held fast, so he relented without much of a struggle, kicking off his boots and putting his feet up on the coffee table where the efforts of the previous night still rested: books and papers, blueprints and plans of the court, additions to what they'd already constructed for the new Terrasen.

Somewhere along the way they'd sat back to rest their eyes and the memory faded off from there. "How the court will talk," he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of his queen's head. Not that he particularly cared.

Aelin stirred against his chest and one of the legs curled under her shifted against his thigh and one firm calf shifted over his.

He chuckled for a moment but the laugh faded in his throat. Underneath the sweet perfume dabbed just under her jaw and the raw scent that was _Aelin_, something was different. Something that settled down into his stomach and tightened his grip on the arm across his chest.

Rowan turned away from her body, now unable to ignore it. He knew very well what it was, too stubborn to accept the fact that her state of _fertility_ stirred something in him. Such a thing was always obvious for Fae males, of course, and with any other woman, it would have barely warranted an interest beyond the bitter reminder of how long it had been since he'd lain with a woman. But now, when Aelin was the one giving off that scent that so enticed males. . .

He pried off her arm, slipping out from under her, laying her down on the couch gently and pulling the throw blanket over her legs. And then he quietly slid out the door, careful not to wake the sleeping queen while his heart thundered through his chest.

Out in the hallway, he took a deep breath of fresh air, calming the sudden spike of his pulse. Dear Gods. Aelin was his friend. She was a woman, but she was his friend and not just any woman who happened to be _in heat_.

The same woman who'd slept next to his side as naked as the day she was born. That had been easy to ignore, though. A body was a body. She was a woman. She had breasts. She had hips and a waist. Just a body. But now his body wanted hers and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Snuck out early this morning, hmm?" Aelin said, smiling, ignorant, as she strode up to him in the newly constructed great hall. Now that the stone had set and the wide oak rafters stretched over the tiled floor, the two of them were watching the silver and green Terrasen banners rise on pulleys to take their place in rows down the room.

"I had a few things to take care of," he said, shrugging, trying to seem nonchalant as he braced himself to fend off the overpowering urge to seize her to him then and there.

Everything about her seemed luminous. Her hair looked thicker, loose and falling down to the swells of her breasts through her blue and grey gown. A slight flush stretched across her cheeks, down her long throat. His canines felt suddenly sharp against his tongue at the prospect of tasting her neck, right over the muscle that stretched down to her prominent collar bone.

"It must have been important," she said, crossing her arms as she looked up to the flags that the workers were now securing down.

"Sort of. Just a few letters to get out before lunch. I hope you didn't have too much trouble sleeping."

"Just a little sore, but I think I'll live," she said, smiling. "Do you have anything planned after this?"

"I can't think of anything."

"Come eat with me, then. If you're hungry. I'll be taking lunch in my rooms. If you're not, we can still finish going over the new structure of the court. I've had some interesting ideas on how to prevent individuals from gaining too much power, and I think you'll enjoy it."

He cursed mentally, but nodded. "I'd love to." Alone in her rooms while she looked and smelled like sex on legs. What a perfect combination.

Rowan pulled himself together as they made the short walk through the still bare halls to her chambers. The kitchen staff had already laid out a small meal at the side table in her sitting room by the time they walked in, and Aelin wasted no time in digging into the lamb, goat cheese, figs, and olive bread.

Rowan packed his plate equally—even maybe slightly less—full than Aelin's, and sat across from her at the small dining table behind the couch. She waved around a slice of olive bread as she spoke of some of her plans. He kept his eyes on his plate, occasionally looking up to meet her eyes and offer some sort of noise to keep up the charade of paying attention when all he could think about is how problematic it was that her bed was one room away and that they weren't in it.

"Rowan?"

"Hmm?" He jerked his head up.

She bore a slight confused look, her brow wrinkled. She was even biting her lip. Gods. "You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying."

"Haven't I?" he tried to tease, but she didn't buy it.

Her lips twisted to one side, eyebrows raised. "You most certainly haven't." She was quiet for a moment, as if she was contemplating saying something or not. Finally she spoke. "I think you're too busy thinking about sex to pay me any attention."

Rowan choked on the water he was swallowing and sputtered through the rest of the mouthful. "Excuse me?" He tried to keep the horrified feeling in the pit of his stomach from rising up and overcoming his expression.

She shrugged, casual. "You're staring off into space, getting a little pink in the face, and biting your lip. What else could it be? Don't worry about it. It's a natural thing to do. I do it all the time."

He tried not to think about his queen getting distracted by so base an instinct. As much as he berated himself for leaning towards his "base instincts," he couldn't help but see the appeal of it. The need for it.

"It's not—" he tried to say, but not knowing where he was going. "I'm not—"

Aelin laughed, a genuine smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. Such joy from his embarrassment. He made a note to get back at her later for that. When he could go near her without thinking about every part of her he'd seen.

"Fae aren't entirely immune to those instincts, you know," he said sternly, calming himself.

"I wouldn't expect you to be."

"Anyway," he drawled. "I promise I'll focus now. Let's get down to business." _In your bed_, his mind added but he pushed those thoughts aside. "Shall we?"

Not long after they'd finished their work, Lady Meredith came calling with the message that several lords were waiting for Aelin in the great hall, and the queen rose from the table. "I'll see you at dinner?"

"Of course. I'm going to go for a walk down to the river now, so I'll head out with you," Rowan added.

Lady Meredith bade them both farewell with a curtsey and a smile, and then Aelin and Rowan headed the opposite way down the bare hallway. They walked in companionable silence for most of the way until one of the younger half Fae courtiers came around a corner. As he passed them, Rowan saw his head jerk up, staring at Aelin steadily.

Aelin nodded a greeting, then a slightly confused, "Is everything all right?"

The young lord stammered something unintelligible and Rowan stepped closer to his queen, putting a firm hand on her lower back. He smiled coldly, baring his canines for the other male to see. "He seems to be doing fine. We should be on our way."

Aelin looked up at him, brow furrowing at the tone in his voice. "What are you. . ."

Rowan nodded at the lord, "Good day." And then grasped Aelin's hand with his free one, the hand on her back pushing her forward. He knew that if she'd really wanted to stay, she'd be able to stop him but she did nothing of the sort.

As soon as they were out of earshot of the courtier, she pulled herself from his grasp, glaring at him. "What the hell?"

He glared right back. "I didn't like the way he looked at you."

"I'm not blind. You were challenging him. You don't just growl at every male who happens to give me a funny look."

So she wasn't as oblivious as he'd thought. "I did not _growl_."

A single arched eyebrow rose. "I can argue you all day on that."

He stared her in the eye for a moment before deciding to just come out with it. It was a simple fact of life. Nothing more. Telling her meant nothing except that he'd noticed in the first place. "Right now, you're giving off a different sort of smell than usual."

"I smell? That's what this is about. Everyone thinks that the queen smells bad but no one will tell her?" She threw her arms out.

"No," he said quickly. "No," more slowly. Pause. "It's far from bad."

"Then what is it!" She stepped closer. The annoyance in her voice only made it worse. Gods, the blood that had been blotching his cheeks was nowhere near his face anymore.

"You're ah. . . giving off signs that now is a good time for a male to take you to bed." He swallowed.

She drew back, possibly from surprise. It certainly didn't seem like the answer she'd been expecting. "What sort of signs?" she asked carefully. "The way I smell?"

He nodded. "That. And the way you look. Your hair. Your skin." He didn't think he needed to elaborate any more than that.

She shrugged, seeming to accept it all at once. "I did think that my breasts were looking particularly large today."

He couldn't help a glance down at them, the way her arms were crossed beneath them, pushing them up against the boned bodice of her silk dress.

"You just looked," she snorted.

"I'm just as weak as every other male in this palace, apparently."

"Apparently," she teased, but there was a dangerous curiosity in her eyes. "That's what you were thinking about before wasn't it. You were thinking about having sex with me."

The blunt honesty of her words was like a punch in the gut. There was no going back now. "If you have a problem with that, I can leave until you're. . . done with all of this."

She chewed on her lip, a smile pulling up her lips. Dear gods he wanted to kiss her, wanted to shove her back against that wall and— "How about I get back to you on this? After my meeting."

"Sure," he could only manage before she drew closer, kissing him on the cheek. For a moment her breasts pressed against his chest and their breath mingled in the shallow space between them.

His breath caught in his throat and he resisted a deep growl. He could smell it on her. Smell the way she responded to him. She could dance around him all she wanted, but she couldn't hide the fact that she wanted him too.

Rowan shouldn't have been nervous, and yet here he was, on the edge of his seat, pretending that it wasn't _exciting_ for a woman to return his interests after so many years of self-inflicted solitude. His heart hammered against his grey shirt, the sleeves cuffed just below his elbows. He rolled his neck, running his tongue over his sharp canines, trying not to wonder too much about what might happen.

He would have jumped at the sound of the door opening had he not heard Aelin's heeled slippers coming down the hall. She was flushed when she entered the room, immediately noticing him sitting in front of the fire on the couch where they'd fallen asleep the night before.

"So," she said, shutting the door behind her.

"How were the lords?"

"Oh, the usual. Paying their respects to the new queen. I expect these actually meant it."

"Did they have any Fae blood?" he asked, mostly for the underlying meaning.

"No. They didn't notice."

Something feral inside him lowered its hackles. "Come sit with me." he said quietly, and it came across more as an order than he intended.

But she did it anyway, and as she sat, he found himself wishing she was wearing trousers instead of thick skirts so he could've gotten a glimpse of her backside. Up close there was a mischievous glint to her eyes, something that both excited him and cautioned him against saying anything too dangerous.

Aelin squinted then, and looked away towards the fire. "Is this just because how I am right now?"

Rowan licked his lips. "What answer do you want to hear?"

"The truth."

He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his knees, folding his hands. "The truth is that it's five times harder for me to resist. . . trying anything when you're like this."

She didn't answer for a moment, and he didn't dare look at her.

"Rowan," she said softly, and from the corner of his eye, he could see her face him, her hands reaching for him.

One smooth palm slid along his cheek, turning his face to hers. Gods she was beautiful, lips red and skin warm and pink. How he wanted to _taste_ it.

But she wasn't running. Wasn't telling him off for so much as implying that he wanted her in that way, wanted to share her bed in more than the literal way.

Before he could stop himself, he closed the distance between them faster than any human would have, pressing his lips to hers. Softly for a moment, again when her lips stirred against his.

The hand that had rested on his cheek slid to the back of his neck, grasping his hair as her body leaned closer to his. Rowan slid one arm around her back, her impossibly small waist in that dress, the firm bodice unyielding beneath his fingertips.

The kiss awoke in him a feeling in his belly that he'd almost forgotten existed since Lyria's passing. It was as if he'd been hanging over a precipice, waiting to fall, and the kiss had cut the ropes that held him, and here he was, plunging into cold waters, into the unknown.

Rowan's other hand wove into her hair, holding her face to his, mouth wet and warm and open to his.

"Aelin," he murmured, kissing across her cheek, down to her throat. He could taste the sweet flowery concentrate of her perfume on her skin, the fresh scent of her soap, the underlying flavor that was strictly _her_. He could feel her heartbeat surging in her chest, hear her breath next to his ear.

He traced his tongue down to her pulse point where he sucked, nibbling at the tender skin. Fingers dug into his shoulder as his canines grazed over her vein.

"Someone could walk in," she whispered as he moved back up to her jaw, ghosting over the warm skin back to the corner of her mouth. He wished he could spend hours savoring the taste of her skin, the way the fire in her pulsed against his palms, his lips.

"Let them," he muttered as he tugged her into his lap. It was what everyone was thinking anyway. What did it matter if they were finally right?

"We can't just—" she insisted, but then his tongue was cutting off her words, sweeping through her mouth. She pulled away from his seeking mouth, lips even pinker than before. A small crease appeared between her eyebrows. "If we're doing this, then we're locking the door."

She pushed off his chest to stand, and he leaned back against the arm of the couch, one arm resting on the back. He'd never given himself the freedom to look at Aelin so greedily, but now where was the harm? Why shouldn't he appreciate the long legs he knew were hidden underneath those skirts and petticoats, the Ashryver eyes that burned into his, the arch leading down from her neck to her shoulder. . .

She turned the bolt at the front entrance to her chamber, and then faced him, tilting her head sideways. "You're looking at me like you're a hawk and I'm a mouse."

He shrugged. "Must be my Fae form showing." He didn't stop staring.

She straightened. "I'm not a mouse."

"Sure about that?" Rowan asked, standing. He headed towards her slowly, giving her time to bolt if she so chose. He wanted her to. He wanted to chase her down and take her there on the floor. _Control yourself, damn it. _

Aelin chewed on her bottom lip as he approached, standing tall as he kept moving, pressing her back until her palms were flat against the door. She didn't shrink away. But then again, why would she?

"I still say you're a mouse," he teased, bending to push her soft hair away from her neck to kiss the hollow beneath her ear.

"Mice don't bite back," she said with a twisted smile and had her lips to his throat faster than he realized what was happening. The little demon.

He pressed his body into hers, familiar with the way she felt against him after cold nights in bed together, her back to his chest. A hiss escaped his lips as her canines slipped down his throat. Her small hands were pulling his shirt untucked from his trousers, diligent and sure of themselves.

He roamed her back, tugging at the knots of the laces holding it together. Dresses be damned. He had to stop for her to pull his shirt over his head, and finally the cording slipped through the grommets as she drew his mouth down to hers.

Rowan tugged the sleeves down over her shoulders, the bare linen shift soft and wrinkled under his hands. Aelin grasped his shoulders as he blindly fumbled—since when did he fumble?—with the hooks at the back of her skirt. When her dress was finally pooled about her ankles, he ran a hand down her back, grabbing a handful of her backside.

Gods.

He was as familiar with her body as she was with his. There was no hesitation, no shy embarrassment to touch something that was already safe territory. He knew she was strong, anything but fragile, that she could handle firm grasps, the way he tugged her firm thigh up around his hips.

Heat was pooling in his stomach, her fire. She was even overly warm to the touch, as if she was an ember, ready to be lit into flames again.

"Not standing up," she gasped as he pushed one strap of her shift over her shoulder, baring her breast. He cupped her pale flesh, running his thumb over her pink nipple, already peaked.

"Why not?" he muttered into her throat, tweaking her nipple just for the gasp he knew would come. She wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, pressing into the growing bulge in his trousers. Her scent surrounded him: the smell of her hair, her skin, her arousal.

"Because I'm the queen and queens don't have sex against a door for everyone to hear," she said breathily.

Rowan ground against her hips, stroking up her thigh until he reached the soft undergarments where her hips started to narrow into her waist. His thumb slipped under the fabric, rubbing along the inside of her thigh. He could feel her stomach tighten against his. "I'm flattered that you think I can make you loud enough for everyone to hear," he growled into her throat, nipping along her ear.

"Don't let it go to your head," she said with a slight laugh.

"To the bed it is, then," he said, and held her up easily with two hands on her ass as she grasped his shoulders as he carried her into the other room.

The large four poster bed—made carefully by the maids that morning—creaked as he released her onto the pillows, kicking off his shoes and crawling up after her. One stocking had fallen down her leg, gathering around her calf, her slipper hanging off by the heel.

Aelin rose on her elbows to watch him as he tossed her shoes behind him to the floor, and traced her leg with his mouth up to the top of her stocking. He eased it off her leg while his lips journeyed up, tongue tracing a path up to the crease of her hip.

"You're mine," he whispered against her hipbone, pushing her shift up.

She guided him the rest of the way up her body, legs settling around his hips as he pulled the shift the rest of the way off.

"I belong to no one," she said, a wry smile. He didn't want her smiling, though. He wanted her gasping and moaning. So he kissed the smile from her lips and ground against her while she tugged his belt off.

There was nothing more important than her in that moment. It had been a good long while since he'd felt a woman's bare body arching against his. Too long.

Rowan reached down, helping her get his pants off, his arousal springing free as she pushed his trousers the rest of the way down with her feet.

He could feel her eyes on him, and had to remind himself that although he'd been privy to the sight of her before, the most she'd ever seen of him was his bare chest. But he kissed her until she leaned back again, her hair splayed out on the white pillow behind her.

"You may belong to no one, but I want you," he said against her mouth while his hand smoothed down her warm thigh, sliding down behind her knee to hoist her calf over his ass.

"I suppose," she breathed out as she pushed her own underwear down, "I can be yours for tonight."

"You suppose?" he questioned, easing the final garment between them off the end of her ankle. The hard peaks of her breasts pressed against his chest. Despite her strength, she seemed small now, laying under him, lithe and slender.

"Is my supposing a problem?"

He reached between them, positioning himself. Gods she was wet. "I don't want you to just _suppose_ you're mine. I want you to _know_ it," he growled out the last words into her jaw, sinking into her.

She _whimpered_. Good gods.

He let out a short breath, eyes fluttering shut as he grasped her hip, bringing her up to slide all the way in. Far too long since his last time. He'd forgotten what it was like to slip inside a woman for the first time.

"Maybe I do belong to you," she murmured as she held onto the back of his neck. "Ahh." Her lips parted as he pulled back and pumped in.

"Just a maybe?" he mused, fingers digging into her hip as she arched into another thrust.

"Convince me, then," she murmured, meeting his gaze.

With a swift jerk, he pulled her down from the pillow so her hips were directly under his, and thrust into her with a groan. She yelped with the movement, but her head fell back as he picked up his pace.

She was tight and wet around him, friction he welcomed with every thrust. "You'll only know you're mine if everyone else knows it," he grunted into her exposed throat, and pressed open mouthed kisses down from her ear to where he could feel her blood pounding through her veins.

Not too hard, but not gently either, he bit down, pricking her skin with his canines. Her gasp slipped into a groan as his tongue eased over the two marks. He sucked at her skin, then, leaving a red splotch in plain sight. All the while, his hips never ceased their rhythm.

"Are you convinced yet?" he questioned after a particularly hard thrust. Her breasts bounced with the motion.

A moan escaped as the hand not holding him up reached between their bodies, down through the slick folds to the bundle of nerves that took him half a second to find. "I think so."

Another whimper when he pressed harder, callous rubbing over the wet bump. "That doesn't sound like you're entirely convinced."

"I am," she said then, as he circled the bump, thrust carrying him all the way in. Gods, if she didn't finish soon, he would be over the edge.

"You're what?" he questioned. Her thighs were trembling around him, and she suddenly tightened at the rhythm he picked up with his thumb.

"I'm yours," she whispered, eyes slipping back into her head, mouth falling open. He sucked her lip into his mouth.

"You're what?" he demanded, pressing harder.

"I'm—ah—I'm yours," she moaned and then let out a gasp, arching against him. He could feel all her muscles tense in waves, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in small airy noises.

He followed two thrusts after, spilling himself inside her as he grasped her hip, forehead pressed into the pillow above her ear. All the months of pent up pressure, frustration, eased out of his shoulders, and Rowan realized he was shaking as he recovered himself.

He slid out of her, and collapsed next to her, a thin sheen of sweat over his chest and back.

Next to him, Aelin reached a tentative hand between her legs, pulling it back sticky with his seed. "You've made a mess on my bed," she said softly, not sounding very angry despite her accusation.

"I'd like to see you explain that one to the maids," he said, and saw the smack across his arm coming. He caught her hand instead and pulled her close. She rolled her eyes but settled into the groove of his shoulder.

"You can do the explaining," she murmured into his throat, aligning her body with his, her breasts against his ribs.

He glanced down to the twin red marks on her throat, oozing droplets of blood. Something stirred in his stomach, the feral Fae in him that purred in satisfaction at bedding a woman in heat.

"Rowan," Aelin murmured, tilting her head up to whisper in his ear words that sent a different sort of warm shock through his limbs, "I'll always be yours."


End file.
